


Swim the Silent Slipstream Inside of Me

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:26:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Neal and Peter, talking about the past has a way of making the present far more interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swim the Silent Slipstream Inside of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://rabidchild67.livejournal.com/profile)[**rabidchild67**](http://rabidchild67.livejournal.com/) who I was very happy to get for the [](http://wcpairings.livejournal.com/profile)[**wcpairings**](http://wcpairings.livejournal.com/) exchange. Of course, being the person who hasn't written much porn in the last couple years, I decided that I had to write the porniest of her awesome prompts. "2. Neal/Peter: Peter asks Neal to take his virginity. Do I have to waggle my eyebrows? I would like top!Neal, S.V.P." Title is from Over the Rhine's "Faithfully Dangerous." Thank you to [](http://hoosierbitch.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://hoosierbitch.livejournal.com/)**hoosierbitch** for a beta that made this story so much better.

Neal sipped his wine and then tilted his head back to catch the evening breeze that blew over the balustrades and across the terrace. Peter hummed contentedly and Neal turned to look at him where he sat just a couple of feet away. A group of three wrought iron chairs had been artfully arranged for some gathering of June's, and they were positioned just right for watching the sun set behind the taller buildings around them. Neal and Peter had settled into two of the chairs, sharing the third for a footstool.

Neal caught himself watching Peter lift his beer bottle to his lips and drink, watching the muscles shift in his arms. Neal had never imagined, during those years when Peter was chasing him, that Peter could look like this--relaxed in jeans and a well-fitted black t-shirt, that cheap, boxy suit stripped away to reveal a surprisingly fit and muscular body. Unfortunately, looking was all Neal could do when it came to Peter, looks and casual touches that weren't supposed to mean anything.

Peter belonged to Elizabeth, and Elizabeth was just a few miles away in Brooklyn, hosting the baby shower that had spurred Peter to ask Neal about his weekend plans. Neal didn't mind, really. He loved the solidity and groundedness of the Burkes' marriage, and any time he could spend with Peter rather than Agent Burke was a gift. He had a vague plan for watching a movie on the truly enormous TV in June's home theater room, but he didn't feel motivated to move from the terrace, and Peter seemed just as happy to enjoy his beer and the skyline. And, hopefully, the company.

"I bet you have a spreadsheet in your head," Peter said out of nowhere.

"What kind of a spreadsheet?"

"The crimes you pulled, the ones you never got charged with. And the statute of limitations on each of them."

"Hmmm." Neal looked over and saw Peter watching him calmly. "I think of it more as a ledger book than a spreadsheet, but you're not wrong."

"And of course you never committed any crimes without statutes of limitations." Peter said the words steadily, if not quite casually, as if he were 99% certain that Neal had never done anything horrible enough that the legal system could never let it go and yet that 1% of doubt persisted.

"No, Peter. Of course not."

"I know. So, just think, if you keep your nose clean, one of these years you won't have to keep any more secrets. You won't have to worry about somebody like Kramer coming along and taking away everything you've built."

Neal swallowed hard. "I have to admit that has a certain appeal."

"That's good to hear."

Neal didn't respond, just took another sip of his wine and rolled it over his tongue for a long moment before swallowing.

Peter tipped his feet to the side to bump his sneakers against the side of Neal's shoe. "Why don't you tell me a story? Something far enough back in that ledger book that I couldn't prosecute you for it even if I wanted to."

It sounded like a bad idea, a really bad idea, but Peter didn't seem to be in the mood for an interrogation. And after all, there was little risk in telling Peter about any crimes he couldn't legally pursue. Neal was still proud of some his early work, and sharing could be fun. "Okay. In '02 I was in Italy, and I procured a Botticelli from a private collection. I didn't have entirely up to date information on the security system when I went in there, and I got inside without too much trouble, but getting out--let's just say it taught me a lot."

"Hmm. That was when you were with David Beaumond?"

Surprise and a bit of anxiety twisted together in Neal's gut as he parsed the question. _With_ was such a flexible word; it could be a simple conjunction but it could also imply much more. Peter's tone had been casual, but the hint of extra weight on the word made Neal sure that Peter knew his relationship with David had been more than just business.

"That's right." Neal took a long swallow of wine, emptying his glass. "I didn't think you knew; you never said anything."

"There's a reason I made a point of telling you the FBI's not concerned with the sexuality of its employees when you first started working with us. And then you seemed pretty dedicated to skirt-chasing so I figured it wasn't an issue. But I've wondered."

"It wasn't a phase or anything. It's just, you know how I am with shiny things, and women tend to be very shiny."

"They do indeed." Peter bumped Neal's foot again. "But I never thought it was a phase. You know, you think you know so much about me, but do you know who I was dating before I met El?"

"Uh, no." Neal had never poked into Peter's history, and he could scarcely imagine who Peter would have been before El or before the FBI. "No I don't."

"His name was Steve. He worked in the ballistics lab downstairs, and when he got a transfer to DC, well, our relationship was ready to end anyway."

Neal felt his heart pounding in surprise as he turned to stare at Peter. "Seriously?"

Peter smiled smugly. "See, there are some things even the great Neal Caffrey doesn't know. You can stop gaping at me now."

Neal closed his mouth pointedly before opening it again to speak. "Does Elizabeth know?"

"Of course," Peter answered, as if it were a foregone conclusion, and yet there was a gentleness to his tone that said he forgave Neal for his doubt.

Neal set his empty glass down on the floor to take away the temptation to fiddle with it. He took a long look at Peter, the calm, open expression on his face, the lines of his body as he sat in the chair. "Will you take it the wrong way if I say I wish we'd met back then?"

"Heh." Peter smiled and looked down. "If El were here she'd be crowing with victory."

"What?" Neal shook his head, confused.

"She told me a while ago that she thought you had feelings for me. And she knows that I--" Peter took a deep breath and let it out. "I care about you a lot."

"You two _talk_ about these things?"

"My wife is a smart woman, and, if you haven't noticed, she likes to say what's on her mind."

"True." Still, it wasn't a comfortable thought, that Elizabeth had been watching him while he watched Peter.

"She told me that if the situation ever, uh, arose that she would be happy with it if we--" Peter gestured to the space between them. "If we were together." He turned a sly smile on Neal. "She's used to sharing me with you, after all."

"Wow." Neal stared out at the buildings around them and up at the gray-dark sky, letting Peter's words sink down into him until they began to feel real. Then he took a deep breath and stood up, feeling like he was about to take the risk of his life, like he was walking along the balustrade in heavy winds with nobody to catch him. Moving slowly, so slowly that Peter could stop him at any point, he stepped over Peter's outstretched legs and bent down in front of him.

Peter tilted his face up, his eyes sharp and crinkling in the corners, and Neal kissed him. As his tongue slipped inside Neal tasted beer, and _god_ it had been a long time since he had the rougher texture of a man's tongue in his mouth, the slight rasp of five o'clock shadow against his chin. Neal heard the clatter of the third chair falling over as Peter put his feet on the floor, and then Peter's hands were on his waist, pulling him closer, lower until Neal was on Peter's lap, straddling his legs.

He had one hand wrapped around Peter's bicep, his thumb riding in the groove between muscles, and his other hand was cupped around the back of Peter's head. The soft bristly hairs at the nape of his neck tickled Neal's palm, and the sensation was almost enough to distract him from the feeling of Peter's hands slipping under the hem of his shirt. Peter spread his fingers over the skin of Neal's lower back as Neal nipped at Peter's lips until Neal pulled back, breathless, and settled his weight onto Peter's thighs.

"Wow," he said again, struggling to put his thoughts in order. He looked at Peter's face--the relaxed, happy smile he'd seen so rarely, the kiss-swollen lips he'd never seen. "All those years, I thought you were such a tight-ass, but I never imagined how you might've put that ass to use."

"I never actually--" Peter tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows rising and falling. "I never quite went that far."

"Oh." Neal was hard, his cock straining against his pants, and the thought of Peter's ass, of being _inside_ Peter was painfully tempting, but he breathed and pushed that back. "We can do other things, whatever you want."

"What if that was what I wanted? What if I wanted you to be the first?"

Neal looked Peter in the eye and saw the certainty there, tempered by a surprising hint of shyness that made him look younger than Neal had ever seen him. "I'd make it so good that you'd be ruined for any other men."

"Who said anything about other men?"

"Good point." Neal moved in for another kiss; being able to touch Peter like this, to taste him, felt surreal, and even if it might end up disappearing like the memory of a dream, he was going to get as much of it as he could. He took a deep breath to steady himself then murmured in Peter's ear, "You want to do this tonight?"

"God yes."

Peter's hands were cupped around Neal's ass now, pulling him in against Peter's body, and if they didn't move inside soon Neal was going to lose control before they even got their clothes off. With that thought in mind, Neal grabbed the hem of Peter's t-shirt and peeled it up and over his head. Peter raised his arms to toss the shirt to the side, and Neal ran his hands over the broad curves of Peter's chest.

"We need to take this inside before somebody gets an eyeful," Peter said. He was unbuttoning Neal's shirt but looking at the city around them as if he'd forgotten it was there.

"Who cares?" Neal pulled open his belt and popped the button on his pants. "Let them see."

"I care." Peter's face made it clear that this was non-negotiable, so Neal nodded and stood up, letting his shirt fall from his shoulders to the ground behind him. Peter stood too, pressing his body against Neal's until Neal felt unbalanced. He was going to fall into Peter or away from him so he grabbed on to Peter's belt and tugged him toward the door.

At the side of the bed, Neal stripped off his pants, exquisitely aware of Peter's gaze on him. He'd felt that gaze for years, from far and near, but he'd never let himself spend much time thinking about the possibility that it might be more than just the pursuit of a suspect, the observation of an employee. Now, Peter watched him as he toed out of his shoes and pulled his pants and underwear off. Neal bent his knees off to remove his socks and then stood naked in front of Peter.

"Your turn," he said, gesturing at Peter's jeans. Peter had unzipped his fly while Neal undressed; he'd slipped his hand inside to make more room for his cock, but Neal wasn't sure if the hint of color on Peter's cheeks was due to arousal or shyness or some of both. Finally Peter took a deep breath and shoved his jeans and briefs down to his ankles. He toed out of his sneakers and shook the whole mass of fabric off his ankles, and Neal thought he had _nothing_ to be shy about.

His cock was thick and long where it rose up from between solid, muscular thighs, balls heavy and ruddy against the pale skin of Peter's hips. Neal fished a bottle of lube and a condom out of his bedside table then walked up close to Peter, and he shivered with pleasure as the head of his cock brushed against Peter's thigh. "You let me know if you change your mind. We can do other things if you want." He ran one finger up the length of Peter's shaft to illustrate the possibilities, and Peter closed his eyes, his eyelids trembling.

"I'll let you know," Peter growled. He wrapped his hand around the back of Neal's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. There was nothing sweet about it, and Neal held onto Peter's shoulder, pulling himself up to meet Peter's lips. Peter's tongue pushed in against his, and Neal thought about climbing up on the bed, thought about kneeling there and begging Peter to take him, but that wasn't the plan.

Peter pulled back, gasping in air as he moved his hand from the back of Neal's neck to his cheek, the hollow of his throat, his chest. "Let's get this started before it's all over."

"Climb up on the bed then," Neal said, imagining all of the ways he could have Peter spread out in front of him.

"How are we doing this? Hands and knees?"

Neal grinned. "Hmmm. How flexible are you?"

"Well, I wasn't exactly the star of the couples yoga class El dragged me to, but I didn't hurt myself either."

"Couples yoga? Seriously?" The mental images were possibly hilarious and possibly the sexiest thing Neal had thought of in weeks.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Can we stay on track?"

"Oooh, yeah. And no, on your back. I want to see your face."

Peter sat on the bed and scooted back while Neal climbed up to kneel in front of him. "Here." He grabbed a thick pillow and put it behind Peter's lower back, ducking in for another kiss before kneeling up again. "Lay back and bend your knees."

Peter followed instructions, and then he was splayed out in front of Neal, hips tilted up, strong thighs flexing out to the sides. Open and beautiful and waiting. Neal set the condom aside and squeezed some of the thick lube into the palm of his hand. Once his fingers were coated, he reached down and hesitated for a moment; he never thought he'd be able to have Peter in his bed, to touch him like this.

His fingers shaking ever so slightly, he pressed one finger against Peter's hole. He moved the tip of his finger in a tiny circle and looked up to watch Peter's face as he slipped that finger in through the taut ring of muscle. "You've gone this far before?"

Neal bent his finger to glance across Peter's prostate, and Peter took a sharp, shuddering breath. "Yeah, now and then."

"Mmm-hmm." One finger was easy, too easy, so Neal pulled back smoothly and re-coated his fingers with lube. "What about this?" He slipped two fingers inside and grinned as Peter bit his lip.

"Not--oooh." Peter pushed his hips up to meet Neal's hand as he released a shuddering breath and gasped in more air. "Not in a long time."

Neal found a rhythm and kept moving as he felt Peter relaxing. He maneuvered the bottle of lube with his left hand and squirted some more of it onto his moving fingers, then tucked his thumb up in the ridge between his index and middle fingers and slipped the tip of it inside at the deepest point of his next thrust. Peter's hips went still at the larger intrusion, and Neal watched his face flush, watched him bite his lip for a long second before relaxing with the next breath.

"You think you're almost ready for me? You've waited a long time. Waited for me?"

Peter's hips went loose again, moving in time with Neal's hand, and he nodded. "Yeah," he said, his voice raspy. "Yeah." And Neal didn't know which question he was answering but he hoped it was both.

"Okay." Neal pulled his fingers out with a wet pop of lube on skin and picked up the condom. He fumbled with it, his fingers too slippery to get the package open, then Peter sat halfway up, his abs flexing as he took the condom from Neal and ripped the packet open. "Thanks," Neal whispered, then he closed his eyes and bit his lip as he rolled the sheath onto himself. Focusing on getting Peter ready had cooled his erection but just touching himself was enough to make him fully hard again, and as soon as the condom was all the way on and coated with a layer of thick lube he knelt up and moved closer, bracing his hands on the bed near Peter's chest.

Peter's hole was slick and as relaxed as it was going to be but Neal held tight to his control and eased just the head of his cock inside. He stilled as Peter gasped and breathed through the stretch. Neal wasn't going to rush, wasn't going to ruin this for Peter or for himself, so he balanced his weight on one arm and wrapped his free hand around Peter's cock. He just held the slightly-softened weight of it in his hand for a moment then wrapped his fingers around the shaft and started jacking Peter as he pushed a little deeper inside. He was inside Peter and around him all at once, and he'd never expected to be there.

Beads of sweat rose up on Peter's broad chest, and he tipped his head back into the pillow-top mattress as his hips rose to meet Neal's. He wanted to close his eyes and lose himself in sensation, but he needed to watch Peter's face, to know what Peter looked like when he lost himself, just in case he never got to see it again. They found their rhythm again, and Neal knew that neither of them was going to be able to hold on long.

Peter bit his lip, moaned. "Oh god, Neal." His hands were fisted in the sheets on either side of him.

"Is it too much?" Neal panted, hoping like hell that Peter didn't ask him to back off. "Do you need me to--"

"God, no." Peter let go of the sheets and reached up to touch Neal's chest.

Neal felt rough thumbs brush over his nipples, and he gasped, his hips trembling as he struggled not to come. He wanted Peter to come first, to come apart under him while Neal was still on the edge. Neal slowed down his thrusts and focused on his hand wrapped around Peter's cock. He stroked his loose fist all the way up and over the head then back down, his thumb teasing at the slit. He pushed the air out of his lungs as he bent forward, trapping Peter's cock between their sweat-slick stomachs and pressing his lips to the underside of Peter's jaw.

Peter tilted his head down, and they kissed, gasping for breath against each other's mouths. Neal felt Peter shaking, right on the edge, and he bit down on Peter's lower lip, just where Peter had been biting himself. Peter moaned low in his throat and came, warm and sticky on both of their chests. Neal pushed himself back up and continued touching Peter with soft, slow strokes while he turned his focus back to himself, to the tight heat of Peter's body around him.

He looked down and saw Peter watching him, his brown eyes warm, soft, a satisfied smile on his face. Neal's arms shook, barely holding him up as he quivered on the edge of coming, and Peter reached up to his chest again. The broad palms of Peter's hands held him up, and his thumbs sketched lazy circles over Neal's nipples. Neal held his breath and closed his eyes; he pushed in deep and let go, his hips shaking as pleasure rolled through him like a shockwave.

He rested his head against Peter's bent knee and breathed in the clean smell of Peter's sweat until he came back to himself enough to pull out smoothly--cringing at the small hiss from Peter--and tie off the condom, then leaned over the side of the bed to pick up his undershirt. A wet washcloth would have been better, but the shirt did a good enough job of cleaning them up, and Neal flopped down to lie next to Peter.

Peter arched his back to pull the pillow out from under himself then dropped back down and pulled Neal in close, his arms strong around Neal's chest, his breath gusting against Neal's temple. It had been so long since Neal had been folded into arms that were bigger than his, enclosed and held, and it felt safe in a way he had forgotten he could feel.

"Thank you," Peter whispered, sounding wrecked and open. And happy.

"You're welcome," Neal replied, his lips brushing the warm skin of Peter's neck. He fell asleep with Peter's breath in his hair and the soothing rhythm of Peter's pulse beating against his cheek

~~~

In the morning, Neal woke alone in bed with a pillow under his head and the comforter pulled up to his shoulders. He could smell coffee. He didn't think Peter would have left without waking him, but he braced himself for awkwardness as he rolled out of bed. He didn't see Peter right away, so he pulled on his underwear and padded to the bathroom. He pulled on pajama pants and his robe and made his way out to the terrace.

Peter, dressed in his rumpled clothes from the day before, sat at the table with June, both of them drinking coffee and talking about something Neal couldn't quite hear. Then Peter looked up and spotted Neal, and his smile was softer than Neal had ever seen before.

"Peter. June," Neal said, unsure of what the dynamic was, what it should be. "Good morning."

"Good morning, dear." June's smile was bright with a hint of mischievous delight. "Did you sleep well?"

"It was the best night's sleep I've had in a long time." He looked at Peter, and he wasn't sure how this was going to work, but he knew that he wanted it more than anything, wanted to be in Peter's life long enough to be able to tell him all of his secrets. He held Peter's gaze and echoed his own words. "A really long time."

**Author's Note:**

> This story has a timestamp [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2166360/chapters/4737579) and a sequel: [The Heart that Beats is Yours Inside Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1180165).


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